


Cold North

by vbligs



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Blood, Communism, F/F, F/M, Gore, Murder, NSFW, Smut, Spying, being a traitor to your country, but not really, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 12:38:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16264370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vbligs/pseuds/vbligs





	Cold North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> june 19, 2287.

"мой ребенок! мой ребенок, мой ребенок...ты взял...он...мой мальчик...!" Anichka's soft wailing broke Danse's heart, the way she clutched to Kellogg's dead body, sobs wracking her body as she pleaded in a pre-war language, "Где мой сын? Где мой мальчик! Мой сын, мой дорогой, мой Саша, Саша! Где мой сын?" The way she spoke, voice breaking and rough, stained with cold northern winds and relentless heartache -

She'd _lost_ something.

Danse didn't know _what_.

He gave her a few more moments to grieve, to pry at Kellogg's ruined coat, before placing his power-armor covered hand on her shoulder, voice gruff, emotionless, not showing an ounce of the whirlwind he felt for her inside.

"We need to go, soldier."

"да," It was the only word he _understood_ of her language. 'Yes,' so simple, so blunt - yet the way she spoke, the way she brushed the tears away and replaced her goggles, methodically melding back into the _Star Paladin Lyashev_ \- it was like she was slowly pretending it had not happened. Wrapping the sniper rifle back over her shoulders, standing and turning, Anichka sighed, turning back to the body for a moment.

"Покойся с миром."

Then, she was gone, striding out the doors, past dozens of dead synths, slamming open the double doors of the Fort, re-entering Commonwealth.

Danse stood for a moment, before the heavy  _'t-thunk' - ssss'_ of his power armor followed behind, catching the doors so he wouldn't be hit.

"Спасибо - No, you will not...Thank you, Paladin Danse," she looked to him, eyeless under the goggles, voice catching on the first word and evening out to monotone by the last. The way she moved, way Anichka spoke - she'd never  _apologized_ to him before.

"It's fine," he began, cautiously, "You needed a -"

"No. It was not  _'fine,'_ but I appreciate you saying so. Let us continue on our way, there is quite a lot of ground to cover, Paladin," With that, she was off again, every footfall overflowing with purpose and duty, if the Brotherhood did enrollment posters, she'd most likely model for them. Anichka was _everything_ that the Brotherhood of Steel embodied, sans power armor.

Not that she needed it - Danse doubted that even an _Alpha Deathclaw_ could take her down on its own. She'd obviously been military before the war, and 200 years of cryogenic preservation hadn't diminished her skills. 

She -

_"Paladin Danse."_

Her sharp voice knocked him out of his head, looking up at her, not through her as he had been, with a start. He'd nearly walked over her, not realizing she'd stopped moving.

"Yes, Star Paladin Lyashev?"

Anichka laughed at his formality, short and clipped, before reaching up and patting his cheek, soft enough to not hurt, hard enough to leave a light sting.

"You were in your head again," she gave him one last pat, before pulling back and giving a smile of understanding. The way she smiled, carefree, as if twenty minutes ago she hadn't been _sobbing_ over a dead body on a filthy floor -

It made something in his heart twist and _burn_. 

"Ah, yes. My apologies, Star Palad-"

Again, cutting him off with a hand raised in the air, " _Lyashev_. If you _must_ be informal, Anichka. 'Star Paladin Lyashev' takes far too long to say."

Danse hesitated, this was against _protocol_ , this was informal enough _already_ -

"Please, Paladin."

 _"Lyashev,"_ he could feel the way he _butchered_ it, the way it _staggered_ off his tongue like a dying man. He winced.

And Anichka laughed.

"Close, but no. _Lyashev,"_ she was patient, motioning for him to walk alongside her. Anichka's face, split open in smile beneath her mask - unsettling, but welcome compared to the agony of the dead.

"Lya-Lyashev?" Another try, but he could see her restrain a laugh with her tongue between her teeth. He almost became sullen, feeling like a pouty child. 

"Better - It is hard to say. I don't - _I didn't_ \- expect you to get it right. It's from an old language. Most likely bombed into dust," Anichka seemed to hesitate to tell him the language, he could read her body language better than he could pronounce her name.

"What language, Lyashev?"

" _Better!_ Much better, Paladin - It was _Russian_. The 'Commies' of the world before bombs. I am - I _was_  Russian," she sucked in a breath, remembering what her home looked like before she came state-side.

Danse however, stopped in his tracks, gears grinding as he looked at her in a mixture of emotion.

"...You were a _Communist?_ "

To that, she laughed - bitter and _cold_ \- before stopping and looking at him with a tired grimace.

"In a word? _Yes_. Now? I am simply  _alive_. And before _you_ and the rest of Brotherhood scold me, I was _dutiful_ to my country, as you are. I did not _want_ the bombs, I did not _realize_ that they would drop. So yes, _communist_ , but not because I wanted the world to end, but because my _heart_ , my _country_ , was," the way Anichka spoke, _strained_ and _tense_ and _melancholy_ \- he understood. Danse _understood_ the giving of oneself to country, the blind trust and _confidence_ one had in the cause -

"Let's continue, Paladin Danse," she nodded, emotion draining until she was back to her usual neutral state. Blank slate and walking once more - she seemed done with the conversation.

All Danse could do was follow the monolith herself, follow the woman who'd seen war enough she'd practically _accepted_ it as a constant.

Followed behind until her shoulders slumped, and without looking, motioned him to walk next to her, resigned to her fate of probable beratement, questioning, and the like at the hands, or more like _mouth_ , of Paladin Danse.

He hurriedly stepped forward, closing the distance between them, mouth parting open before she silenced him with a wave of her hand.

"You have questions," Anichka said it like a statement, not a question, tiredly pushing her goggles up to pinch and rub at the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

 _"Yes,"_ Danse was tentative, but the way his voice broke through him betrayed the blind need, the _want_ , for information. She was volatile, that was true, and he didn't want to set Anichka off, but he _craved_ information so _badly_.

"Ask then."

"What was it _like_ -" He cut himself off, mortified. She'd probably been thinking he'd ask about her allegiances, why she'd been with the Red Threat - but he'd only wanted to know what life had been like before the bomb.

" _Ask_ , Paladin."

"What was it like _before_ the war? And not war, but -" Danse gestured outward, animated, frustrated, a combination of feelings he didn't know the names of, "- _this!_ What did it look like, how did it _feel?_ War never changes, I know that, what I don't know is what _life_ was like."

Anichka side eyed him, for a moment doubting, but seeing the earnest curiosity painted across his features - she couldn't help but oblige.

"... _Green_. Here, at least. It was always so green and _vibrant_. The spring was all light and water, flowers budding - blooming. Not like Wasteland ones, these were so bright they hurt your eyes sometimes."

And seeing the way he hung on her every word - she couldn't help but say more.

"Summer was Nate's favorite. Everything was so _green_. Green and _alive_. Green and _hot_. _Always_ hot, and the sun was so big. Felt like you could touch it sometimes. Nothing like where I grew up - always blue and white and _deep green_. Beautiful. I liked autumn, or sometimes it got called fall. The leaves went red and yellow and orange and fell from the trees, crunchy. Kids liked to jump in the piles. Harvest season - food _everywhere_. Beautiful. Sacha - _Shaun_ \- was born late October, near this thing we called Halloween."

 _"Halloween?"_ Danse whispered, testing out the word.

"Halloween. Kids, adults, everyone - we'd dress up and go house to house. Knock on the door, say _'Trick or Treat!'_ Then, the person would give the kids candy for free. It was always fun," she laughed at his reverence, enjoying his naivete to events she had taken for granted, "Do you want to know other holidays?"

Danse nodded.

Anichka continued.

And they fell into comfortable conversation - Anichka explaining the world before war, and Danse delighted, asking a thousand and one other questions.

Walking, walking, following a long destroyed road to home base, wherever that may be.

 


End file.
